Larry Snotter And The Thinking Pebble
by Louxthedice
Summary: Basically its a spoof of Harry Potter. Wrote it with large amounts of help from jen. Please note, as its a spoof its generally taking the mince out of Harry Potter, i do actually love HP but i thought there had to be a spoof so here it is! i dont own HP
1. Chapter 1

Mr and Mrs Mursley, of a strange street we dare not mention, were proud to say that they had rather a lot of well known secrets. They were the first people you would expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious because they just loved such nonsense.  
Mr Mursley worked in a baker shop. He had almost been fired multiple times for eating a lot of the cakes. Mr Mursley was a small, weedy man with lots of neck, and his moustache was very small. Mrs Mursley was fat and brunette and had practically no neck, which made it very hard for her to spy on her neighbours. The Mursley's had a large son called Rudley "fat boy" and in their opinion there was no worse son anywhere.  
The Mursleys had nothing they wanted, and above all their other secrets they had another larger one and their greatest fear was that they wouldn't get noticed because of it. They didn't think they could bear it if no one found out about the Snotters. Mrs Snotter was Mrs Mursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several minutes; in fact, Mrs Mursley pretended she was her sister, because her sister and her wonderful husband were as unMursleyish - in other words stupid and boring - as it was possible to be. The Mursleys smiled to think what the neighbours would say if the Snotters arrived in the street. The Mursleys knew that the Snotters had a small son, too, and they just loved to see him. This boy was another good reason for seeing the Snotters as much as possible; they wanted Rudley mixing with a child like that.  
When Mr and Mrs Mursley woke up on the bright, lovely Tuesday our story starts, there was something about the bright sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Mursley sang loudly as he picked out his most exciting tie for work and Mrs Mursley kept her silence glumly as she hugged a behaving Rudley who had just climbed into his high chair of his own accord.  
They all noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.  
At half past eight, Mr Mursley picked up his cake case, pecked Rudley on the cheek and tried to kiss Mrs Mursley goodbye but missed, because she was now having a tantrum and throwing her cereal at the walls. "Little shit" he muttered as he left the bungalow. He got on his pink bicycle and back out of his bungalows drive.  
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something normal - a cat reading a map. For a second Mr Mursley didn't realise what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to look again. It was he realized he had been seeing things. It was no cat. It was a rat. And there was no map in sight. Except for the one is sat on. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr Mursley blinked and stared at the rat. It stared back. As Mr Mursley rode around the corner and down the road, he watched the cat on his handlebar mirror. It was now reading the street sign - no, looking at the sign; rats couldn't read maps or signs. Unless they really set their minds to it. In which case I'm sure they could. Mr Mursley gave himself a little shake and put the rat out of his mind. As he rode towards town he thought of nothing except a large order of cakes he was planning to eat that day.  
But in the centre of town, cakes were rode out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the unusual morning traffic jam, he could have helped, but didn't, noticing that their seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr Mursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes, especially if he wasn't one of them - the get up people didn't tell him about! He supposed they had forgotten to tell him about this new fashion statement. He drummed his fingers on the handlebars and his eyes fell on a huddle of these trendy people standing close by. They were whispering loudly together. Mr Mursley was outraged to see that some of these trendy people that didn't tell him of their styles weren't even young! Why, that man had to be older than Elvis and he was wearing a diamond cloak! The braveness of him! But then it struck Mr Mursley that this was obviously a surprise for him - these trendy people were obviously hoping to surprise him yes…that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr Mursley arrived in the bakery car park, his mind back on tasty cakes.  
Mr Mursley always sat with his nose pressed upon the glass of the cake display. If he hadn't he might have found it easy to concentrate on cakes. He did see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street didn't. Most of them had never seen an owl during the day, but they weren't very observant. Mr Mursley, however, had a perfectly strange owl-filled morning. He yelled at five different customers. He ate several important cakes and shouted a bit more. He was in a very strange mood until lunch-time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a drill from the drill makers opposite.  
He'd remembered all about the trendy's in cloaks until he passed a group of them and forgot. He remembered soon enough though as he smiled at them. He didn't know why, but they made him feel easy. This lot were whispering loudly, too, and he could only see one collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large drill in a bag, which he caught the whole of what they were saying.  
'The Snotters that's right, that's what I know -'  
'- yes their son Larry -'  
Mr Mursley stopped dead, happiness flooded him. He looked back at the loud whisperers, gave a cheery wave and smiled.  
He meandered back across the road, didn't rush to his small room at the back of the baker, snapped at the customers to leave him alone, lazily picked up his telephone and had almost finished dialling his bungalow number when he decided he would much rather have another cake. He put the receiver back down and scoffed his cake. No, he was being intelligent. Snotter was an unusual name. He wasn't sure there were lots of people called Snotter who had a son called Larry. Come to think of it, he was sure his nephew was the only one called Larry. He'd seen the boy plenty of times to know. It couldn't have been Larvey or Larald. There was no point in making Mrs Mursley happy for nothing. She had always known that if the Snotters died she would get Larry which is what she really wanted. He didn't blame her, Larry was an excellent child. But all the same those trendy's in cloaks.  
He found it a lot easier to concentrate on anything but cake that afternoon, and when he left the building when he got bored, he was still so unworried that he walked straight into someone just inside the door.  
"Not sorry!" he shouted with glee. As the large young woman stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr Mursley realised that the woman was wearing a violet cloak. "Oh I am sorry" he said as he dusted her down in hope of some news of his nephew. She didn't seem in the slightest bit upset at being almost knocked over. On the contrary, her face split into a goofy grin and she said in a deep Russian accent "Don't be sorry, my dear woman, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice! Rejoice! For you-don't-know-who has gone away for a while! "Rejoice indeed!" cried Mr Mursley still hoping she might mention his nephew.  
Despite this attempt she gave him a filthy look and wandered off.  
Mr Mursley stood rooted to the spot. She hadn't even mentioned his nephew He was rattled. He hurried off to his bike and set off home, imagining Larry waiting for him when he got home. Imagining things was very high up on Mr Mursley's list of priorities.  
As he rode up the drive of his bungalow, the first thing he saw - and it did improve his mood - was the tabby rat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on a dog that whimpered and moaned. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its ears.  
"Would you like a shoe?" He asked it, hoping to confuse it away.  
It didn't move. It merely gazed at him with hatred and sniffed the air. Was this normal rat behaviour? Mr Mursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together with some glue he let himself into the bungalow. He had made up his mind to hint at snippets about the Snotters.  
Mrs Mursley had had a nice, abnormal day. She told him over dinner nothing about Mrs Next Door's problems with her daughter and nothing about Rudley's new word (rant). Mrs Mursley tried to act abnormally. When Rudley had been sedated, as he was every night, he went into the living-room in time to catch the first report on the evening news:  
"And firstly, bird-watchers everywhere haven't reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. This is strange because they have been appearing a lot recently during the day. I don't think these bird watchers are the real deal! Otherwise they would know that owls don't usually come out during the day!" The newsreader smiled cheesily. "Most mysterious. And now, to skip straight to the end, over to Jim McGiffen with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"  
"No, but there are plenty of showers of strange shooting stars. Be warned if they touch you, you will die a most painful death". "Oh yeah, it might rain a bit tonight as well if your not being killed by shooting stars."  
Mr Mursley sat loosely in his chair (so loosely he nearly fell off).Shooting stars that killed you all over Britain? Owls flying normally in the eyes of fake bird watchers? Trendy people in cloaks all over the place? And a loud whisper, a loud whisper about the Snotters...  
Mrs Mursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good; she wasn't picking up on his hints. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat confidently. "Oi! Tulip! Have you heard from your lovely sister recently?" he said with too much force.  
As he had expected, Mrs Mursley dropped the tea cups and ran through to the telephone shouting "No! And it was my turn to phone as well!"  
She then ran through with the phone. She had ripped it from the wall in her hurry. "Why?" She questioned suspiciously.  
"Funny stuff on the news," Mr Mursley roared "Owls…Shooting Stars…And there were some trendy looking people in town today…".  
"So?" she said smiling stupidly.  
"Well, I just thought…maybe it was something to do with you know her lot."  
Mrs Mursley gulped her tea through a straw. Mr Mursley wondered if he could be bothered to tell her about hearing the Snotters name. He decided he really couldn't be bothered. Instead he said in an uncasual voice "their son - he'd be about Rudley's age wouldn't he?".  
"slightly younger but yes." she replied.  
"What's his lovely name again? Loward isn't it?".  
"Its Larry you fool!" snapped Mrs Mursley.  
Mr Mursley immediately began to cry. He didn't want to say another word in the presence of that foul woman and went upstairs to bed. While Mrs Mursley was in the bathroom, Mr Mursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The rat was still there. It was staring down the unnamed street as though it was waiting for something. Possibly a bus. Maybe a helicopter.  
Was he imagining things like he always did? Could none of this have anything to do with the Snotters? If it didn't...if it didn't get out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it.  
The Mursleys got into bed. Mrs Mursley fell asleep quickly but Mr Mursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Snotters were involved, they would have every reason to come near him and Mrs Mursley. He couldn't see how he and Tulip couldn't get mixed up in anything that might be going on. He yawned and turned over. It should affect them…  
How very right he was.  
Mr Mursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, might not have been, but the rat on the dog outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the corner of the unnamed street. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed in the next street, nor when two owls pooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the rat moved at all.  
A man appeared on the corner the rat had been watching, appeared so slowly and loudly you'd have thought he was an old drunk. The rats whiskers fell off and its tail went mad.  
Something like this man had been seen in the unnamed street before. It had been an old drunk, funnily enough. He was small, fat and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were rather short. So short infact that he could only just fold the hairs up to put them in his mouth. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground like a brush and high heeled, buckled shoes. He was that cool. He was really cool. In an old drunk impersonator way. His blue eyes were shadowed, red and tired looking behind half-sun spectacles and his nose was very short and wonky, as though it had been whacked with a stick a few times. This man's name was Bulbus Slumbermore.  
Bulbus Slumbermore didn't seem to realise he was on a street. He didn't even seem to know who he was. He was busy rummaging in his cloak for something. But he did seem to realise he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the rat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the rat seemed to scare him. "You can't take me back! I won't go back. I don't want to go back to that school with those shit-faced little brats!" he yelled still looking for something.  
Suddenly he pulled out what he was looking for. It was a puter-oner. Something that put lights on. He clicked it, the nearest light went on. He clicked it several times until the whole street was ablaze with light. It was perfect. Now everyone could see him. If anyone looked out of their window they would see perfectly what was happening. Slumbermore slipped the put-oner back inside his cloak and attempted to leave the street but the rat's mind power made him draw nearer the Mursley's bungalow.  
"Fancy seeing you here bitch!" cried Slumbermore who attempted to leave again and was promptly drawn back in with her mind powers.  
He turned to scowl at the rat but it had gone. Instead he was scowling at a rather weedy looking woman who has wearing square boxes over her ears exactly the same shape the rat had around its ears. She too was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was rather scraggly, she looked distinctly unruffled.  
"How did you know it was me you old bastard?" she demanded.  
"I've never seen such a fat rat in all my life".  
"You'd be fat too if all you did all day was sit on a wall" said Professor McConicalflask.  
"All day? When you could have been exercising? I must have passed a dozen gyms on the way here"  
Professor McConicalflask sniffed angrily.  
"Oh yes, everyone's exercising all right" she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful. Even the puggle's have noticed something going on. It was on their news".  
She jerked her neck back at the Mursley's dark living room window.  
I heard it. Flocks of owls exercising . . . Shooting stars clearly made of sweat . . . well, their not completely stupid, they're bound to notice something. The shooting stars were Gedalus Giggle I bet, he had a lot of sense until recently.  
"Don't blame them fatty" Slumbermore said harshly. "We've had precious little to be silly about for eleven years you party pooper"  
"I know that you stupid old fart" Said Professor McConicalflask irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads People are being downright careless, out exercising in broad daylight, not even dressed in Puggle tracksuits, swapping sweat"  
She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Slumbermore here, as though hoping he was going to give her a tip on exercising. But he didn't, so she went on: "A fine thing it would be if on the very day You-Don't-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Puggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Slumbermore?"  
"I think so..." said Slumbermore "I don't pay attention...Jammy dodger?"  
"A what?"  
"Clean out your ears! I said a jammy dodger. They're a Puggle biscuit I'm quite fond of" said Slumbermore as he scoffed the whole packet.  
"You greedy bastard!" said McConicalflask coldly as though she had wanted one. "As I say even if You-Don't-Know-Who has gone-"  
"My dear professor, surely a fat person like you can call him by his name? All this "you-don't-know-who" business drives me bananas! For eleven years I have been trying to convince fatties such as yourself to call him by his proper name: Perdle"  
Professor McConicalflask flinched, but Slumbermore, who was scoffing more Jammy Dodgers, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'you-don't-know-who'. I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Perdle's name."  
"I know you haven't you selfish bastard" said professor McConicalflask, sounding half-hungry, half-angry, "but you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one you-don't-know - oh, fine Perdle - was frightened of. Possibly because your so crazy"  
"You flatter me," said Slumbermore calmly. "Perdle is more insane than I am."  
"Only because you're too - well - strange to go that insane"  
"It's lucky its dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madame Bigumfry told me she liked my old earmuffs."  
Professor McConicalflask shot a sharp look at Slumbermore and said "The owls are nothing to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's gone away for a while? About what finally stopped him?"  
It seemed that Professor McConicalflask had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a rat nor as a woman had she fixed Slumbermore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Slumbermore told her it was true. Even if he was crazy. Slumbermore however was horsing down another packet of jammy dodgers and did not answer.  
"What they're saying" she pushed on "is that last night Perdle turned up in Godrics Hollow. He went to find the Snotters. The rumour is that Gilly and Games Snotter are - are - that they're - dead."  
Slumbermore bowed his head. Professor McConicalflask gasped. "Wake up! You weren't supposed to fall asleep!" she cried. "Gilly and Games... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it...Oh, Bulbus..." Slumbermore reached out and patted her on the shoulder.  
"I know I know" he said lightly.  
Professor McConicalflask's voice stayed steady as she went on "that's not all. They're saying that he tried to kill the Snotters son Larry. But couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Larry Snotter, Perdle's power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone."  
Slumbermore nodded happily.  
"Its - its true?" faltered professor McConicalflask. "After all he's done al the people he's killed he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding of all the things to stop him but how in the name of hell did Larry survive?"  
"We can only guess" said Slumbermore "we may never know"  
Professor McConicalflask pulled out a paper tissue and dabbed at her ears beneath her boxes. Slumbermore gave a great snort as he took a silver fob watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very normal watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It made no sense to Slumbermore but he liked to pretend. "Hagbag's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"  
"No!" she lied. "But I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here of all places?"  
"I've come to bring Larry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now, unless you count the rest of his family such as his grandmother and such"  
"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" shrieked professor McConicalflask, jumping to her feet and pointing at the Mursley's house. "Slumbermore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are more like us. And they've got this son - I saw him being kicked by his mother all the way up the street, screaming that he didn't want sweets. Larry Snotter come live here!"  
"It's the best place for him" said Slumbermore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."  
" A letter?" repeated McConicalflask strongly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really Slumbermore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today is known as Larry Potter day in future - There will be books written about Larry - every child in our world will know his name!"  
"Exactly," said Slumbermore, looking very seriously over the top of his half sun glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"  
Professor McConicalflask opened her mouth then closed it quickly again as a fly flew into it then said "yes - yes you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Slumbermore?" she eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought the boy would spring out of it at any minute.  
"Hagbag's bringing him"  
"You think it - wise - to trust Hagbag with something as important as this?"  
"I wouldn't trust Hagbag with my hat" said Slumbermore.  
"Then why let him bring the boy?"  
"He's good with children"  
"I suppose so. You can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"  
A high pitched squealing sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily quieter as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar suddenly as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.  
If the motorbike was huge, which it might not have been, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost 4 times as tall as a normal man and at least 10 times as wide. He was too big to be allowed really, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of dustbin lorries and his feet in their leather boots were like fully grown dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.  
"Hagbag" said Slumbermore who had just woken up from a power nap. "At last. And where did you get that motorbike?"  
"Stole it, Professor Slumbermore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black fell asleep so I took it. I've got him, sir."  
"No problems were there?"  
"Loads, sir - house was almost destroyed but I got him out all right before the Puggles tried to get at him. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol, don't blame him mysel'."  
Slumbermore and professor McConicalflask bent backwards over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just invisible, was a baby boy, not asleep at all. Under a mound of jet-black hair over his forehead they couldn't see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. This was mainly due to him being just invisible.  
"It should be about on his forehead where -? Whispered Professor McConicalflask. "Yes," said Slumbermore. "He'll have all that hair forever."  
"I meant the scar you stupid bastard!" yelled Professor McConicalflask.  
"Oh yes, he'll have that as well as the hair I suppose"  
"Everyone has hair you fuck wit!" she screamed.  
Slumbermore just stared at her. Hagbag giggled and Professor McConicalflask calmed down.  
"Couldn't you do something about it, Slumbermore?"  
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. He's lucky to have all that hair. It can come in useful. I had a map of London Underground shaved into the back of my head but then all the hair fell out. Well - give him here, Hagbag - we'd better get this over with."  
"Once again I was referring to his scar!" Said Professor McConicalflask angrily.  
"Your obsessed with that bloody scar!" said Slumbermore. "And no, I'm not going to do anything"  
"Why not? You're being selfish again!" Said professor McConicalflask hotly. The argument would have continued had it not been for Hagbag interrupting with "Can we not just dump him and go?"  
Slumbermore took Larry in his arms and turned towards the Mursleys door step.  
Could I - could I waken him up brutally, sir?" asked Hagbag.  
He bent his great, shaggy head over Larry and let out a howl like a wounded dog on drugs.  
Louder!" shouted Professor McConicalflask. "You must wake the Puggles!"  
"S-s-sorry" stuttered Hagbag, taking out a large striped handkerchief and rubbed it all over Larry's face, who still did not wake. "Oh bugger it; he's not worth the trouble." said Hagbag.  
"Yes, yes I suppose so" said professor McConicalflask patting Hagbag, who had begun to cry at failed attempt to wake Larry, gingerly on the back. Slumbermore threw Larry in the general direction of the doorstep and threw a hastily scribbled note at the bundle; Hagbag's shoulders shook, he was still upset about not waking Larry. For a full second the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle, who had made himself visible and was still sleeping. Hagbag's shoulders shook at seeing him still slumbering, Professor McConicalflask blinked a little and the twinkling light that usually shone out of Slumbermores eyes seemed to have gone out. It might have something to do with the fact that he was asleep and he had painted crude eyes on his eyelids.  
"Wake up you old fool!" McConicalflask cried.  
"Who dat?" Mumbled Slumbermore as he awoke.  
"It's me you blithering idiot! Now come along!"  
"Yeah" said Hagbag while cracking his knuckles "I'd better get this bike away. Night, night everyone" he cried to whole street, to which several people hung their heads out of their windows to say goodnight.  
Wiping his eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagbag swung himself on to the motorbike, kicking McConicalflask in the head, and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.  
"I shall not see you soon I expect Professor McConicalflask" said Slumbermore shaking his fists to her. Professor McConicalflask slapped him in reply.  
Slumbermore could just make out a fat tabby rat slinking down the gutter and the bundle of blankets that was Larry.  
No breeze ruffled the messy hedges of the street we dare not mention, which lay loud and dirty under the night sky, the very first place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Larry Snotter rolled over in his blankets and woke up. One small hand crushed the letter Slumbermore had thrown at him and he fell back asleep, knowing he was special, knowing he was famous, knowing he would be woken in a few hours time by Mrs Mursley's scream of delight as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, and that he would spend the next few weeks prodding and pinching his cousin Rudley. He did know that at this very moment, people meeting in public were holding up their glasses and saying in loud voices "To Larry Snotter - The boy who the man let live.


	2. Chapter 2

The Appearing Glass

The Appearing Glass

Nearly ten years had passed since the Mursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but the street we dare not name had changed quite a lot. The sun rose on an even messier garden and lit up their living room, which was almost exactly different from the way it had been on the night when Mr Mursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs had hardly changed in those ten years. Ten years ago, there had been a picture of a what looked like a large pink beach ball with a ice cream cone on his head, but now that drawing had had a beard and a moustache scribbled onto it. This was the only sign that another boy other than Larry Snotter lived here. For it was Larry who had drawn the beard and moustache with his favourite black marker. It was his voice that woke up the still sleeping Rudley.  
"Up! Get up! Now!"  
Rudley woke with a start. His cousin rapped on the door again.  
"Up!" he yelled, laughing.  
Larry heard Rudley jump out of bed and ran back down to his cupboard under the stairs.  
Once inside his cupboard he heard his aunt walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the cooker. He rolled on to his back and shouted "Don't burn the bacon for goodness sake!" before remembering the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorbike in it. He had the unfunny feeling he had had it before it. He got out of his cupboard again and roared up the stairs "Are you up yet fat boy?"  
"Nearly" replied Rudley  
"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn like your foolish mother does. I want a decent breakfast for once."  
Rudley groaned.  
"What did you say?" Larry snapped up the stairs.  
"Nothing, nothing..."  
Larry smirked to himself, it was Rudley's birthday and he was going to make it hell. When he had woken Rudley up he had made sure to remove all his socks except those with holes in them or covered in spiders. Larry loved spiders; they were part of all his evil plans to terrify Rudley as he knew he hated them.  
When Larry was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost all showing except for one patch where Rudley's small present lay.  
Larry remembered back to his last birthday when he had got a racing bike that he had used to chase Rudley about on, a smile flickered across his face, such fun he had had. He picked up the small present and rattled it nice and hard, trying to break whatever it was.  
Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, perhaps it didn't, but Larry had always been small ands skinny for his age. He looked ok though in his lovely never worn before clothes. Larry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair and bright green eyes. He wore designer glasses. The only thing Larry loved about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead which was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He loved it so much that he stroked it affectionately often, as if it were a fluffy cat.  
He had had it as long as he could remember and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Tulip was how he had got it.  
"In the terrible, terrible incident where Lord Perdle J killed your parents." she had sobbed. "Feel free to ask lots of questions."  
Ask lots of questions. That's was the first rule of having a loud life with the Mursley's.  
Uncle Rodent entered the kitchen as Rudley was turning over the bacon.  
"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting to his son. Larry laughed. About once a week, Uncle Rodent looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Rudley needed a haircut or was too fat.  
Rudley was frying eggs by the time Larry arrived.  
Rudley looked nothing like Uncle Rodent. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes (he was always on the verge of tears) and thick, blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Larry often told him he looked like a pig in a wig. Rudley's mother and father quite agreed. They hated him. They had often tried to drown him but unbeknownst to them he knew how to swim.  
Rudley put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which wasn't difficult as there was so much room. Larry meanwhile had stood on Rudley's present. Rudley's face fell.  
He picked it back up and stared at Larry.  
"Well, that'll be none this year then" Larry said dropping the present into the bin. "That's a new record even for you Rudley."  
Rudley's face fell. Aunt Tulip scented danger. This was one of those times when Rudley would almost explode with grief. "We will take you to the zoo!" she said trying to avert the Rudley overload.  
"I don't want to go to the bloody zoo!" he shouted. In response to this Larry shouted "You'll go to the zoo and be happy you ungrateful little shit!"  
Rudley unloaded quickly and smiled. "Zoo it is then!" he smiled weakly. "My favourite!" he said as he walked away.  
"Blast" Muttered Larry, he thought that Rudley hated the zoo.  
Little did Larry know that Rudley despised the zoo. He was only saying it was his favourite because he didn't want Larry to hit him.  
Every year Rudley was beaten before being left behind with Mrs Wigg, a sane old lady who lived two streets away. Rudley hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs Wig mad him look at photographs of all the dogs she had never owned.  
This year, however, to avoid Rudley's overloaded explosions they would take him. Mrs Wigg had broken her leg anyway.  
"Now what?" said Aunt Tulip, looking at Rudley furiously as if he'd planned this. Rudley knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs Wigg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy as now he had to spend the day with Larry.  
"We could phone Marge?" Uncle Rodent suggested.  
"Don't be silly, Rodent, she hates the boy."  
The Mursley's often spoke about Rudley like this, as though he wasn't there - or rather as though he something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a pig in a wig.  
"What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?"  
"On holiday in the north pole" Snapped Aunt Tulip.  
"You could just leave me here," Rudley put in hopefully. (He'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Larry's computer.) Aunt Tulip looked like she could spit lemons.  
"And come back and find the house has run off?" she roared.  
"I won't make the house run away," said Rudley, but they weren't listening.  
"I suppose we could take him to the zoo and leave him in the car" said Aunt Tulip thoughtfully.  
"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone"  
Rudley began to cry loudly in the hope that they would leave him at home for being so noisy.  
"Shut up!" cried Aunt Tulip kicking him hard in the shins. He wouldn't give up and continued to cry but moaning at the same time.  
Just then the doorbell rang - "Who the bugger is that?!" yelled Aunt Tulip. She Rudley's worst enemy (aside from Larry), Leers Locus, walked in with his mother. Leers was a large boy with a face like a cat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Larry hit them.  
Rudley whimpered and ran from the room. Larry and Leers pursued. "Lovely to see the children playing" smiled Tulip and Rodent to Leers' mother as Rudley's screams of pain floated down the stairs.  
Half an hour later, Rudley, who couldn't believe his bad luck, was sitting on the back of the Mursley's bicycle with leers and Larry, on the way to the zoo for the last time in his life.  
His mum and dad hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him. Before they'd left uncle Rodent had taken Larry aside.  
"I'm warning you" he had said putting his big smiling face right up close to Harry's  
"I'm warning you now boy - if you don't do any funny business, nothing at all - I'll HAVE to lock you in your cupboard from now until Christmas.  
"Just try it fatty" replied Larry as he walked away.  
Uncle Rodent was very amused by this retort and walked to the bicycle smiling.  
There was no problem with Larry causing problems. He was rather good at it.  
Once, Aunt Tulip, tired of Larry coming back from the butchers with his hair looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair herself to see if he could do anything about it. He did. He grew it back overnight. They were so delighted that they bought him a computer.  
Another time, Aunt Tulip had been trying to force Rudley into a revolting old jumper (orange with brown bobbles). It was too small but Larry had made sure it would fit him perfectly. Aunt Tulip had decided that she loved Larry even more for this. Rudley was punished anyway though because he was just so fat.  
On the other hand, he'd got into trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Larry's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Rudley's surprise as Larry's gang (though not Larry because he had caused it) there he was sitting on the chimney.  
Larry had known that it would get Rudley in trouble and was rewarded for it. Rudley still thought it was a gust of wind that had brought him to that unexplainable position.  
But today, something would go wrong as always. It wasn't worth being with Larry and Leers to be spending the day somewhere other than school, his miniscule room or Mrs. Wigg's cabbage-smelling living-room.  
While he rode, Uncle Rodent didn't complain to Aunt Tulip. He hated to complain about things: people at work, Rudley, the council, Rudley, the bank and Rudley weren't among his favourites. He didn't complain about anything after all. This morning, he was talking about motorbikes.  
"Roaring along feeling so free. I wish I had a motorbike" he said as a motorcycle overtook them easily.  
"I had a dream about a motorbike" said Larry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."  
Uncle Rodent nearly crashed his bike into the car in front with glee. He turned around and yelled at Rudley, his face like a gigantic ice cream without a moustache, "WHY CAN'T YOU HAVE COOL DREAMS LIKE LARRY?"  
"I don't know!" wailed Rudley as he burst into tears.  
He wished Larry had never said anything. If there was one thing the Mursley's loved even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon - they seemed to think he might get wondrous ideas.  
It was a very wet Sunday and the zoo was completely empty of families. The Mursleys bought Larry and Leers large chocolate ice-creams at the entrance and then, because the scowling lady in the van had told Rudley to get lost they entered the zoo.  
Rudley had the worst morning he'd had in a long time. He was not careful to walk a little way apart from the Mursley's which resulted in him being repeatedly slapped around the face. They ate at the zoo restaurant and when Tulip had a tantrum because her Knickerbocker glory wasn't big enough, Uncle Rodent threatened to lock her in the car and allow Rudley to have one. This was an empty threat though.  
Rudley felt, afterwards, that of course at some point in the day Larry would do something amazing to get lots of praise.  
After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was warm and light in here, with lit holes all along the walls. There was no glass in any of the holes to keep the reptiles in them so keepers were running to and fro attempting to keep them in. Larry noticed a hole that none of them were going near. It was the fattest snake in the whole place. It could have given Rudley some extra fat had he needed it, which he didn't and frankly it wasn't in the mood for sharing.  
Rudley stood with his nose pressed against its eyes, staring into them.  
"Make it move" he said to a keeper who ran away too scared to go near the fat snake. The snake continued to remain perfectly still.  
"This is boring." Rudley moaned. He shuffled away.  
Larry tripped him up as he left and Rudley's head was split open when it hit the ground. Larry laughed and stared at the still frozen snake.  
Then, an idea occurred to him. He walked over to Rudley's bleeding form and hauled him over to the snake's hole. Once Rudley was inside the hole Larry managed to make glass appear over the entrance. He smiled to himself as Rudley awoke. The snake also perked up.  
The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.  
"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass come from?"  
He gave Tulip a Knickerbocker glory for being such a good girl.  
Uncle Rodent waited until Leers was safely out of the house before starting on Rudley. He was laughing so hard he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Serves - you - right - fatty" before he collapsed into a fit of giggles and Aunt Tulip had to run and get herself a large brandy.  
Larry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he didn't have 8 watches on. He knew eight different times from all over the world about couldn't remember which one was relevant to him. He couldn't be sure when the Mursley's were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking up to them and spraying cream on them unless they were sleeping.  
He'd lived with the Mursleys almost ten years, ten happy years, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents had been murdered. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of pink light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was when his parents were killed, though he couldn't imagine where all the pink light came from. He couldn't remember his parents in the slightest. He wasn't bothered really. His aunt and uncle often spoke about them, and of course he was allowed to ask questions but he couldn't be bothered. There were lots of photographs of them in the house.  
Just last week, Larry had day dreamed and day dreamed of some unknown relation coming to help him irritate Rudley, but it had never happened; the Mursley's were his only family. Just yesterday the rest of him family had fallen off of a cliff.  
At school, Larry had everyone. Everybody knew that Larry's gang hated that fat Rudley Mursley in his crap clothes, and nobody liked to disagree with Larry's gang.


	3. Chapter 3

The Post-Its from Someone

The Post-Its from Someone

The trapping of Rudley in the hole earned Harry quite a bit of money from Uncle Rodent and Aunt Tulip. By the time he had run out of money, the summer holidays had started and he had already broken his cine-camera, crashed his remote-control airplane and, first time on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs Wigg as she dancing wildly in the middle of the road.  
Rudley was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Larry's gang, who visited the house every single day. Leers, Nennis, Valcom and Jordon were all small and intelligent, but as Larry was the smallest and smartest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Larry's favourite sport: Rudley-hunting.  
This was why Rudley spent as much time as possible out of his room. He much preferred the bathroom. It was while he was in the bathroom one day that he stumbled upon a ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with Larry. Rudley had a place at Uncle Rodent's old school, Stinktons. They refused to take Larry and had begged for Rudley to come instead. They had even paid them. Leers Locus was going as well which wasn't so good for Rudley but at least there would be no Larry. Larry was going to Rubber Ceiling High, the local comprehensive. Rudley secretly found this very funny.  
"They stuff people's heads down the toilet first day at your new school," Larry had told him. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"  
"Ok" said Rudley stupidly.  
As his head was thrown into the toilet for the twelfth time it finally occurred to him that it hadn't been such a good idea to agree as he lost consciousness.  
One day in July, Aunt Tulip took Rudley to London in the hope of selling him. Larry went to Mrs Wigg to see how she was getting on. She was the only person on the street he liked. She wasn't as crazy as usual. She didn't babble to herself too much and she only rocked back and forth for five minutes. She did however begin licking all the pictures of her dogs at which point Larry decided to leave. As he walked out of the door she began to throw green chocolate cake at him. He ran for it and made it back to the Mursley's house almost clean of cake.  
That evening, Rudley was paraded around the living-room in an elephant costume for the family's entertainment. They threw peanuts and forks at him while laughing menacingly Stinktons boys wore leather hot pants, pink fluffy bra's and baseball hats. They also carried giant teaspoons to smack each other with. If anyone cares to know.  
As he looked at Rudley in his new hot pants, Uncle Rodent said quietly that he'd never felt more ill in his life. Aunt Tulip burst into tears and said she couldn't believe how funny he looked. Larry wanted to crack Rudley's ribs because he looked such a fool.  
There was a lovely smell in the kitchen next morning when Larry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of the most beautiful clothes Larry had ever seen, bobbing around in sugared water.  
"What's this?" he asked Aunt Tulip holding a frying pan in his hand menacingly in case she wouldn't answer, which she did.  
"Why, it's your new school uniform darling" she said with a sweet smile.  
"Why the hell are they in a tub then?" he said swinging the frying pan.  
"I'm coating them with sugar so they will smell lovely" she said.  
Larry seriously doubted this; so hit Aunt Tulip with the frying pan. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to smell on his first day at his new school - like he was wearing a coat of lollipops. He also tried not to think of the swarms of bee's and wasps that would attack him relentlessly. That stupid bitch, he thought to himself as he hit her once again with the frying pan and laughed.  
Larry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing they had sent another post-it instead of leaving him in suspenders.  
When the post arrived, Uncle Rodent, who seemed to be trying to be nasty to Larry, made him go get it, and then suddenly changed his mind as Larry looked at him evilly.  
"There's another one! Mr L. Snotter, The Street we dare not name!" shouted Uncle Rodent excitedly.  
With an excited squeak he attempted to tear it up as Larry jumped on his back and grabbed the small pieces then ran and locked himself away in his old cupboard. This post-it also had pointless writing on it. It read "Sorry forgot to write up the proper letter. Fell asleep. Maybe tomorrow". It also seemed to be soaked with drool as if the writer had fallen asleep on it. Larry crawled round and round his old cupboard. Someone knew where he lived and seemed to know they were really hacking him off. Surely that meant they'd send another post-it just to piss him off more? And this time he'd make sure he found out where it had been sent from so he could go there and beat them up. He had a plan, somewhere in his tiny brain. "It must be somewhere!" he thought to himself. "I only put it down just now…"  
The broken alarm clock didn't ring at six o'clock the next morning. Larry hated alarm clocks, hence the reason for this one being broken.  
"Damn thing" he grumbled to himself.  
He got dressed slowly and loudly. He must wake the Mursleys. And he did. They wanted to shout and cry then they remembered who it was and what he could do and quickly thanked him for his generosity.  
He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of the street we dare not name and get the post-its and a return address for the idiots who kept sending them. But no postman ever came. Only a flock of owls wearing tracksuits and sweatbands.  
"AAAAARRRGH!" Larry leapt into the air in fury as he walked back into the house - he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat - something vaguely alive! No not a poo! It was Uncle Rodent.  
He squealed like a piggy and jumped up flapping his fists around like an idiot. Larry stared at him with hatred and went back to his bed.  
"Stupid fat git" he thought as he slammed the door behind him.  
Then he thought back to the owls he had seen. Since when do owls wear tracksuits and sweatbands? He could almost understand them wearing hats, although he thought it inappropriate, but not tracksuits and sweatbands. Then he decided he really didn't care. He would much rather hit Rodent and Tulip with heavy objects.  
Uncle Rodent didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the letter-box.  
"See" he explained to Aunt Tulip through a mouthful of waffles, "If they can't deliver them they'll try harder!"  
"Oh, I see! You're a clever one Rodent! Replied Tulip sarcastically as she had figured this out a long time ago.  
"Oh these people's minds work in wonderful ways, Tulip, they're like you and me." said Uncle Rodent trying to knock in a waffle with the nail Aunt Tulip had just brought him.  
"Rodent you stupid ass look at what your doing!" she moaned.

On Friday, no fewer than twelve post-its arrived for Larry. As they couldn't go through the waffle laden letter-box they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides and a few even forced through the smallest window in the downstairs toilet.  
Uncle Rodent stayed home again. After burning the post-its, dancing on there ashes and doing a strange voodoo ritual with them he got out a hammer and some nails and boarded up any crack or hold he could find. He had wanted to use waffles again but Aunt Tulip had told him no. And she was the man of the house.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty four post-its to Larry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen newspapers that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Tulip through the living room window.  
Aunt Tulip kissed him passionately before remembering her husband was behind her. She covered her action up by slapping the milkman and saying "How dare you!" As Rudley was forced to eat the post-its he managed to mumble through a mouthful "Who wants to talk to YOU this badly?"

On Sunday morning, Uncle Rodent sat down at the breakfast table looked tired and rather ill, but thoroughly miserable.  
"No post on Sundays" he said glumly. "No post-its today-".  
But then something came whizzing down the chimney and smacked Rudley in his fat face.  
Next moment, thirty or forty post-its came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Mursleys ducked, but Larry leapt into the air trying to catch one. He wasn't very coordinated and fell on his face.  
"In! In! Come in post-its!"  
Uncle Rodent began doing a wild jig with one of the post-its that read "whoops sent this by mistake!"  
Larry seized Uncle Rodent around the waist and threw him into the hall. Who knows why. He probably thought it was the appropriate thing to do at that time.  
When Aunt Tulip and Rudley had also been thrown into the hall Larry slammed the door shut. They could hear the post-its still streaming into the room, sticking to the walls and floor and to a stray cat that was just meandering by.  
"That's it!" said uncle rodent as he finally lost his temper and smashed down the door "go and pack your things! And meet me here in five minutes! We're leaving this house!" he shouted angrily. "I want to see if the post its can follow…" he added thoughtfully then shot an evil glance at the other occupants of the room.  
Larry had to admit that even he was scared of Rodent right now. He had never seen him like this before. So angry. And as his uncle was screaming, somehow a giant moustache had grown all over his face. This took away some of the fear and made the situation more funny which gave Larry more power to rebel.  
"What if I don't want to leave this house? What if I like it here?" replied Larry cautiously.  
Rodent stared at Larry - who stared back - for a long time. After a few minutes his right eye began to twitch and a vein on his forehead throbbed evilly.

They pedalled. And they pedalled. Aunt Tulip dared to ask where they were going but only got "far far away! Hehe!" in response.

"Shake 'em, shake 'em," he yelled at Rudley as he handed him a pack of 6 milkshakes.

They barely pedalled all day as they kept on stopping to eat and drink. By nightfall Rudley was purring like a cat, much to Uncle Rodent's displeasure. Uncle Rodent stopped at last outside a bright and shiny, welcoming looking hotel in the middle of a tiny city. Rudley and Larry shared a room with twin king sized beds and warm fluffy blankets. "Only the best for my boy" said Uncle Rodent as he patted Larry on the head. "TAKE THIS AS ALL THE PRESENTS FOR YOUR LIFE" he yelled while smacking Rudley to the ground with a filthy slipper.

They ate a fine banquet for breakfast the next day. They hadn't finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"S'cuse me, but is one of you Mr L. Snotter? Only i wanted your autograph! Oh yeah, there's a few of these at the front desk."

He dropped a post-it on the table so they could read the fluorescent pink ink address:

_Mr L Snotter_

_Room 13_

_Morgueview hotel_

Dietcokeworth

Larry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Rodent knocked his hand out of the way screaming "No! I want to read it!" The owner beamed, oblivious to everything that was happening and continued to stare at Larry. Larry gave Uncle Rodent a look of pure evil but the man just would not back down this time. "I'll take them all," said Uncle Rodent, pushing and shoving the owner out of the room.

"Wouldn't it be horrible to go home Rodent?" said Aunt Tulip attempting to use reverse psychology.

Uncle Rodent snorted into his toothbrush randomly. "Hell no! We're going to make it really fun for them trying to send post-its"

And indeed he did try. He drove into the forest and danced around a bit wearing a brightly coloured suit in an attempt to be fun. He stopped and shook his head and took off again. He did this many times. The worst was in the middle of a funeral.

"Daddy's gone sane hasn't he?" Rudley asked Aunt Tulip excitedly late that afternoon. "Don't be disgusting you filthy little worm!" she cried in horror.

It started to rain bowling balls and they were forced to run for cover. "Surely that can't be normal!" cried Rudley. "SHUT UP YOU MUDDY LITTLE TOAD" screamed Tulip and Rodent in unison. "Surely that can't be normal!" cried Larry. "No it is not Larry. BRILLIANT OBSERVATION" and with that they both handed him a sack of money.

"Found the perfect place!" Rodent cried with glee. "Come on! Let me show you!" He dragged them to the brightest building they had ever seen. It was in the middle of the Spaghetti Junction (nice and easy to get to) and had a huge neon sign above it saying "We're Here! Post-its Welcome!" One thing was for certain, this place had loads of televisions.

"Bright sun forecast for this evening!" said Uncle Rodent in his impression of a bald Scottish man.

"And this bastard has agreed to lend us his boat, i don't actually want a boat but its fun isn't it?" he looked around waiting for praise but it did not come.

A handsome young man with brilliant white teeth strutted up to them and smiled widely. He pointed at his huge yacht and gave them a thumbs up.

"I haven't got us any rations..." said Uncle Rodent. At this Larry smacked him about the head with a large brick, "you spoon!" he looked at the handsome young man "bet you've got some eh pretty boy?" The man nodded frantically.

The handsome man handed over a huge sack full of delightful treasury foods. And also a small sack of dung pellets and banana peels for Rudley. "Very kind" said Larry nodding at the dung pellets and banana peels.

It was very warm in the yacht. Warm steam floated past them (they were in the sauna). After what seemed like seconds they had reached there destination. The inside was beautiful; it smelled strongly like chocolate and forest trees.

The handsome man's rations turned out to be an instant feast (just add water). Rodent tried to start a fire but was roughly pushed into the enormous pool by Larry who was shouting "Central heating you ignoramus!" Rodent's weather prediction turned out to be incorrect and soon a tornado was swirling its way gracefully around them like a huge twirly swan.

Aunt Tulip found a few mouldy blankets in the 202nd bedroom and threw them in the mud outside for Rudley; Larry got the master suite with en-suite everything.

"Bloody weather," he muttered. The neon lights outside weren't doing much to help him get to sleep, although they did try, he just wasn't easily satisfied. They sang him lullabies and made him warm milk but he just sang along with the lullabies and spat out the warm milk.

The lighted dial of the neon watch outside his window told Larry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Mursley's would dare forget. 5 minutes to go. Larry heard something bang outside. He hoped the roof would fall in. It would be very exciting if it did. Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the building like that? It was mildly interesting but not good enough for Larry. And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? See if that's Rudley... thought Larry.

The fat loser better not be eating my feast! One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds . . . twenty . . . ten - nine - maybe he'd cut Rudley's fingers off. Just to annoy him - three - two - one -

BOOM!

The whole exquisite building shivered, maybe it was cold, and Larry sat bolt upright. Now things are getting interesting he thought. Someone was outside, knocking to piss everyone off.


End file.
